


"Falling" For A Stranger

by bazaarhaze



Category: PewDiePie - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: AU, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Depression, F/M, Honestly prolly not oops, How Do I Tag, I curse a lot and it comes out in my writing oops, I love her but i aint about that drama, Marzia is not featured in this story, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, PTSD, Reader is a nervous bean, Slow Burn, Social Anxiety, Writer, cursing, other characters to be added - Freeform, pewdiepie - Freeform, send help why am i like this, trips but with zero deaths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-12 02:51:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13538115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bazaarhaze/pseuds/bazaarhaze
Summary: You're an average klutz and you just so happen to "run" into a stranger. What's the worst that can happen?





	1. Expensive Mistakes

It was an ordinary day.

 

Ordinary for you, at least, since your life had never been “normal.” Almost every day there was a new embarrassing anecdote to do go down in writing. So when you woke up that morning, got dressed, and ate breakfast without incident, to say you were nervous was an understatement.

 

But, despite what you could only assume was impending doom, you managed to leave your apartment, and do some shopping, all without making a clumsy fool of yourself. It was a sunny day, sunny for Brighton, at least, and it wasn’t raining. The shops were all open and town was bustling.

 

You managed to shop successfully and get everything you need without dropping produce you hadn’t bought, you hadn’t tripped over yourself, hadn’t said anything ridiculous to a cashier, nothing. It was a successful day. You had three bags of groceries on your arms, a slight skip in your step, and you were ready to be home to pet your cat.

 

You thought you were home free as you round the corner of a coffee shop, only a block away from your apartment.

 

Until, of course, you made a clumsy fucking fool of yourself.

 

The feeling itself wasn’t surprising. The embarrassment, the immediate apology that flew from your mouth, your butt hitting the pavement beneath you. The surprising part was the fact that instead of just making a fool of _just yourself_ , you just had to drag down a stranger too.

 

You run directly into someone’s chest, knocking you promptly to your ass, since you were too busy thinking about the sunny day to, you know, notice an _entire person walking right in front of you._

 

You hear the sound of glass breaking and gasp as you knock the wind out of the stranger, and you look up from the concrete to see a slim man with blonde, almost white hair. He seems to stumble and then regain his composure. There’s the remnants of what appears to be some sort of frame at his feet.

 

You immediately feel your brain kick into high gear as your heart thumps. Your anxiety takes over like a plague.

 

_Oh god, this man is going to be angry, he’s going to yell, I’m going to cry in front of all these strangers, I need to run, I need to go now, or maybe apologize, or maybe I should just cry, right now, maybe-_

 

You quickly forget the pain in your butt and the bag you dropped and decided instead to do the only reasonable response in this situation.

 

You leap up and run in the opposite direction.

 

You don’t quite know why you do it; there’s just something in you screaming _run for the fucking hills, you idiot_. So you run.

 

You manage to cut through alleyways and people without further incident and make it home faster than necessary. You even find yourself quickly scrambling to get into the lift so you don’t see anyone else.

 

Your house is quiet. You hear your heart hammering from the sprint, and you have to take a deep breath to calm yourself. You hate that you ran, and you scold yourself.

 

“You’re an idiot,”

 

All you can do is sigh. You can’t exactly fix your social anxiety in a flash, and sometimes it takes over and drives you to do dumb things. Including, of course, running away from a complete stranger like they were about to stab you. Fleeing before said person even had a chance to say anything.

 

You roll your eyes at yourself and bring your groceries into the kitchen. You opt to only put away things that needed to be cold. You’d deal with the rest of the groceries as soon as you had comfy pants on.

 

Once you manage to get your sweatpants on, you find yourself wandering into your office. It wasn’t much of a office, honestly. It was the second room in your two-bedroom apartment, and since you live alone, you made it into an office area.

 

The room itself was small, and made smaller by your massive desk and tall bookshelves. There’s a beanbag chair in the corner next to the first bookshelf, blankets strewn about. You called it your “nest,” and it was your favorite sanctuary.

 

Instead of reading, though, you sit down at your desk, booting up your computer. It was nothing fancy, you only used it for writing and photoshop anyways, so you didn’t need anything crazy.

 

You start by checking your various social media accounts. As a semi-successful writer, you make it imperative that you keep a connection with your audience. Your last novel, _Angel's Wild_ , was your most popular and you have gained quite a following for it.

 

You’ve been trying to come up with a new book idea for months, but you can never seem to decide on what it is you want to write. You go back and forth on genre, then you can’t decide on plot, then you can’t decide on characters- it was becoming ridiculous, and you need a rush of inspiration, and fast.

 

You spend about an hour responding to emails, tweets and facebook messages, when suddenly your cat decides to leap up into your lap, thoroughly startling you. You jump, and immediately scold the feline.

 

“Mortimer, you can’t do that!”

 

The smal, black feline only purrs, settling leisurely onto your legs. You roll your eyes at him and pet his long fur.

 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,”

 

The rest of the day goes by slowly. You finish checking all the social media, email your editor about why you haven’t submitted a book idea yet, and scroll through your twitter feed. Before you know it, 6pm has rolled around and you haven’t moved in a solid three hours.

 

You let out a big sigh and stretch, disturbing the cat in your lap. He meows in protest, so you return to petting him in order to placate him. He closes his eyes again.

 

Suddenly, you see a notification appear on your desktop. It’s an email from your editor.

 

You feel yourself pause, dreading the worst. _Great, I’m about to lose my only editor, he’s irritated at my lack of writing, he hates me, he-_

 

You force yourself to click on the email before you can finish the thought.

 

From: _alexhardyeditor@email.net_

 

______,

 

_A video has come to my attention that I think you need to see._

 

There’s a link at the bottom of the page. You click on it, hesitant.

 

A video loads entitled “Pewdiepie runs into stranger.”

 

You feel yourself sink as you watch the video, which is filmed across the road, of you running into the stranger, apologizing, and then running away. The man, apparently named “Pewdiepie,” seems to fumble, recollect himself, and then quickly pick up the frame from the ground, along with your bag of groceries. He seems confused, and he walks away, and then the video ends.

 

After a quick internet search, you feel like laying on the ground a never getting up.

 

Not only did you embarrass yourself by running into a stranger, but that stranger was _famous,_ and had over 60 million subscribers on YouTube.

 

“I’m an _idiot,”_ You groan aloud.

 

Mortimer meows from your lap, almost as if to say, _yes, yes you are an idiot._

 

You feel your heart leap up into your throat as you read through some of the comments.

 

_Isn’t that _____, the writer?_

 

_She needs to make a public apology._

 

_Why does she run like that?_

 

_Poor felix._

 

You decide quickly to close your internet tab. You had never been one to care about what internet trolls thought- but, in this case, you had a feeling that if you continued reading, you would get yourself worked up.

 

You hated it when you fucked up. But you hated it more when you fucked up and ruined someone else’s day. Sure, it was embarrassing by yourself, but when someone else was involved it could get ugly. You’re just happy that, based on the video at least, he doesn’t seem angry. He seems more confused than anything, actually.

 

You sigh, and lift Mortimer off of you, setting him down gently and leaving to go make yourself dinner and then go to bed.

 

Hopefully tomorrow was a better day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! While this isn't my first fic ever, its my first time trying to write and keep up with a multi chapter fic like this. I also have no idea how to write felix and I'm trying my best. I hope you enjoy the story when it actually picks up! I hope to try to post frequently, but writers block is a thing and we'll see how consistent i end up being. Anyways, if you wanna ask me stuff, you can visit my [tumblr](https://also-trash.tumblr.com/)! Call me your trash mom :^)  
> Also, FYI, chapters are gonna be longer after this so like nice


	2. The Mighty Fall

Three days later, and you’re dreading leaving your house.

 

You had managed to get yourself up and ready in no time that morning. Sure, you smeared your makeup all over your face and had to redo everything, but you still actually did your makeup, and you got dressed all before 10am. It was a new record.

 

But as soon as you found yourself about the leave the house, you had to stop. _What if I fuck up again?_ You think.

 

Mortimer walks up and rubs himself along your legs, meowing heartily. You smile at him. “I know, Morti, I know. I should just go. I want tea, and I haven’t been out of the house in three days. I should go, shouldn’t I?” You say, bending down to pet him.

 

He lets out a meow in response, and you smile at him. “Okay. I’ll go,” You tell him as you straighten. You feel empowered and ready to go, so you grasp on to that motivation before it can escape you and open the door.

 

The day is more dreary than the last time you were out. Not quite raining, but looking like it could be soon. You smile. You loved the rain, loved the way it sounded and felt, loved the peace that came with it. Maybe it would rain after you got back to your house later. You hope so. You tend to think better when it’s raining too; the quiet pitter-patter lulls your restless thoughts and inspires you. Perhaps you could finally come up with a book idea.

 

You smile at the thought. Your last book had been a fantasy type, and you wanted to branch away from that and try something new, but you were never good with anything BUT fantasy. Hopefully you’d find an idea soon.

 

You find yourself in front of the coffee shop where what you’re calling the “tripping incident” happened. It was one of your favorite cafés in the area; small, locally owned, with great coffee and tea. They also had homemade croissants that were to die for. You take a deep breath and walk inside, mentally preparing yourself to talk to people.

 

You strut up to the counter, smiling politely at the barista, who looks bored. The shop itself is mostly empty, which you assume is due to the fact that the early morning rush of people getting coffee before work has passed. There’s only one other person in the café, but you pay no mind to them.

 

“Hello, what can I do for you?” the barista, who’s name tag says ‘Ethan’, asks.

 

“Hello! I would like a medium size black tea with honey and sugar, and a croissant, please,”

 

He nods, “Coming right up,” and moves to complete your order.

 

You wait, patient, your eyes wandering around the shop, taking in the vintage feel of it. The theme seemed to be a sort of rustic type, with lovely wooden tables, various types of what looks to be flea market chairs, and paintings of landscapes all around. All in all, it was a lovely little place. It seemed to feel warm and inviting, but also old and aesthetic. You smile slowly.

 

The barista brings your order to the counter and you pay him, tipping heartily. He smiles and thanks you.

 

You turn around, ready to go find a seat and sit on your phone, when you suddenly make eye contact with the other patron of the coffee shop.

 

_Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god-_

 

It’s him.

 

It’s the man you tripped.

 

Your whole body freezes up, and you stare. He seems startled as well, blue eyes stark against the rustic colors of the shop. There’s a moment of silence. Your brain can’t think of what to do next, you want to run again, you want to apologize, you want to say hi; but mostly, you want to disappear into the floor.

 

 _Wow, thanks universe, as if I wasn’t already fool enough, you had to have him_ return _into my life. So not only I can ruin his day once, but twice. Classic. Thanks universe. Thanks so much._ You think sarcastically to yourself.

 

Suddenly, almost nervously, he runs a hand through his hair, and awkwardly stands up, walking towards you.

 

_Oh no, oh my god, he’s so angry, he’s going to demand I apologize, or demand I pay him back for the frame I broke, or-_

 

“Hey, um, you left your groceries?”

 

Your heart stops. He’s holding up a bag of groceries. Your groceries. What. The fuck.

 

You can’t seem to wrap your head around what’s happening, your brain isn’t following, so you stand there dumbly, eyes staring at the bag in his hand.

 

“Um, are you alright? You took a pretty bad fall. I was worried I really hurt you,” He mumbles, seeming unsure. You began to register his accent.

 

Suddenly, it’s almost like your brain comes back from the dead, and you scramble to find words.

 

“O-oh my god, yes, I’m so sorry, I’m okay, yes, I’m alright- are you okay? I hope I didn’t hurt you, I heard something break, do you need me to replace it? Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I did that, I’m such a klutz, I-“

 

“Hey, hey, whoa, it’s okay,” He says gently, cutting you off. Your voice had been shaking. You had been well on your way to crying, and you have to shake off the anxiety and nod, your head almost trying to snap off your neck. You have to force yourself to take a deep breath.

 

“I was carrying a mirror that I bought,” he continues, “it cracked a little in the glass is all. I went and returned it and told them it came packaged like that. I got a full refund,” he grinned a bit, devious. You find yourself smiling back. Okay, this guy seems okay. He’s not mad. He’s actually pretty amusing.

 

Slowly, he hands over your groceries from yesterday, and you take the bag, a bit dumbfounded.

 

“I didn’t know what was in there, so I’ve had it in the fridge. I hope that’s okay. I didn’t want to go through it, so I figured better safe than sorry. I actually returned here yesterday hoping to see you to return it. I figured here was the best place to find you, I guess. Glad you came around when you did! I was about to leave,” He says, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“Yes, thank you, that’s perfect. I’m surprised you looked for me at all.” You reply quietly, feeling grateful.

 

Suddenly, you realize you didn’t even know his name.

 

“O-oh my gosh, where are my manners, I’m _____, by the way,” You stutter.

 

He smiles. “I’m Felix. Wanna come sit?” All you can do in response is nod.

 

You follow him slowly and take the seat across from him. He closes the laptop he had been working on when you came in.

 

“So, uh, I wanted to ask, why’d you run? I was kinda confused,” He asks slowly. He seems cautious of you; not that you’re surprised, considering your outburst. You struggle to find an explanation.

 

See, having an anxiety disorder wasn’t something you were ashamed of. But telling a random stranger about it- one that you met by ruining their whole day, for that matter- wasn’t something you wanted to do. Sure, he seemed kind and trustworthy, but you weren’t about to delve into anything overly personal with him.

 

“Um, I have a hard time in social situations, I guess. I didn’t really think. I just ran,” You reply, nervously picking at your cup. “I’m sorry I confused you. And ran into you in the first place. I should’ve been paying more attention,”

 

He shakes his head, white hair falling towards his eyes a bit. “Hey, I wasn’t paying attention either. I have a bad habit of looking at the ground when I walk, rather than in front of me. I’m really trying to stop that now that this happened,”

 

You watch the corner of his lips turn up in a smile, and you feel yourself grin back. You decide you like his smile.

 

His expression changes a bit, growing somber. “Uh, I sorta thought that maybe you were a fan of mine? I was kinda worried. I thought you’d try to track me down or something,” he looks down as he says this, almost seeming nervous. Then he sputters, “Oh, uh, goodness, by ‘fans’ I mean internet followers, I’m not some crazy celebrity, uh, I run a youtube channel actually? I make quality content. Oh, uh, I mean, oh god, I’m sorry, that’s a meme, oh god, I mean I make comedy type stuff, I-”

 

Almost as if you switched rolls, you grin, shushing him. “It’s okay. I know who you are. Kind of? I guess there’s a video of me running into you online that’s been circulating. One quick internet search told me why the random stranger I’d tripped into was a relevant person. Go figure,”

 

He seems to relax a bit, his ramble having ended. You feel for him. You ramble too.

 

“Sorry about the video, then. The internet loves its drama,” He says.

 

You nod, chuckling, “You got that right.”

 

You take a slow sip of your tea. You can't help but feel oddly relaxed around him; something about his presence was very calming. You decide then you want to get to know him better.

 

“Would you like me to buy you something? It’s the least I can do for breaking your mirror,” You mumble, taking a sip of your tea.

 

“Nah, I had some coffee already,” He replies, shrugging you off.

 

“Okay, well surely you’ve had their croissants? They’re amazing. My absolute favorite,” You say,  taking a bite out of your own croissant.

 

He chuckles and shakes his head. “I can’t say I’ve tried them, no.”

 

You swallow and grin. “Be right back then!” You gingerly get out of your seat, walking up to the counter. You swiftly place your order and the barista makes it, humming all the while.

 

You feel a sense of relief at being able to at least pay him back somehow for the broken mirror. Sure, he said he got a refund, but you still broke it, so you have to repay him somehow. Your anxiety demanded this.

 

When you return with the freshly made croissant, he grins at you, taking the pastry from you and taking a hearty bite. As you sit, you see his face light up.

 

“This is really good!” He says after he swallows. You nod in agreement, taking a bite out of yours.

 

The two of you eat your pastries in relative quiet. It’s not uncomfortable, though, as you expected it to be. This was a stranger, why do you feel as if you know him? It was strange. You’d always been the loner type- socializing was far too scary, and people all-in-all hadn’t always treated you well, so trust for you was hard to come by. But Felix seemed so kind. Who would search out a stranger just to return their lost groceries to them? It’s so odd.

 

You find yourself taking in his features. His hair seemed to be nearly white; it must be bleached, and his blue eyes stand a bright contrast against his pale skin. He was slim in build, but not in an unattractive way, and his clothes fit him nicely. _Okay, this guy is attractive. No need to be like that. Just enjoy his company._ You tell yourself, looking away.

 

He finishes up his pastry and quietly thanks you, to which you nod, smiling lightly. You sip your tea.

 

“So, what kind of job do you have?” He says, picking the conversation back up.

 

“I’m a book writer,” you reply, “my current most purchased novel is called _Angel’s Wild,_ have you heard of it?”

 

He shakes his head in response, so you continue. “It’s a fantasy novel with angels and demons, I wrote it two years ago. It’s gotten pretty popular, and I have quite a following for it.” You say, deciding not to continue in case you sounded like you were bragging.

 

“That’s really cool, I’ll have to read it sometime,” he tells you, grinning. You smile back.

 

“I can get you a copy for free if you like, I have plenty at home,” You offer. You think back, you have at least six copies at home that your editor sent you. You could certainly give one away.

 

“Naw,” he says, brushing you off with the wave of a hand, “I’ll buy one. Support you and all of that,”

 

You feel a blush creep up your cheeks and you pray he doesn’t see it. How kind can this man get? He just met you!

 

“T-thank you,” You mumble, not knowing what else to say. His smile grows soft, and he nods.

 

There’s a long silence, and this time it’s awkward. There’s something in the air between the two of you and you can’t put your finger on it. _I’m probably being crazy. I doubt if he feels something “weird.” Get ahold of yourself._

 

He ends the silence by standing and taking his laptop in his hands, rubbing the back of his neck. “I should probably get going, my dog is probably waiting for me at home, and it’s supposed to rain today, so.”

 

You nod, clumsily standing and nearly knocking your chair over. You sputter as you collect your things, nervousness creeping up your back again.

 

“O-oh, yes, of course,” You say, straightening, fumbling to pick up your purse and retrieve the smaller bag of groceries. Once you finish struggling, you pick up your tea. You’re shaking a bit.

 

“Would you like to exchange numbers? It was nice meeting you, and, uh, maybe we could talk sometime?” he says, seeming extremely unsure of himself.

 

You’re a bit shocked. He _wants_ to see you again? By _choice?_

 

“Uh, oh, yeah, here.” You quickly retrieve a notepad and pen from your purse, which you always kept for shopping lists. You write down your number, your name, and a little heart for good measure. You try to choke down your anxiety about the heart. _It’s not like it means anything, it’s just cute, calm down. It’s cute. He’ll probably think it’s dumb but that’s fine._

 

You tear the paper out of the small notepad and hand it to him, smiling awkwardly. “Uh, text me, then uh, I can have your number, I guess? Yeah, uh. Yeah. Okay.”

 

He chuckles at you, putting the paper in his pocket. “Will do. It was awesome meeting you!” he waves, and then he’s gone.

 

You take a deep breath and feel the tension leave your body.

 

You hear a giggle behind you, and you make eye contact with the barista, Ethan, behind the counter.

 

“I ship it. Oh my god.” He says, grinning at you.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You say, trying to look defiant but only succeeding in looking awkward.

 

“It means that you two should have your next date here. You two need to be a thing.” He laughs again. “Make sure your dates are on my shift. You’re too cute,”

 

You try to scoff. “We’re not dating! Jeez, we just met.”

 

The brunette only laughs again and disappears into the back of the store. You once again feel like disappearing into the floor. _What does he know? He only just met me._

 

The walk home is short. It starts to rain, and you’re left with your thoughts. The rain patters restlessly against the concrete, and it helps to calm the anxiety that’s built in your chest.

 

When you get home, it’s quiet, and you feel yourself thinking about Felix. Hopefully he’d text you soon. Not that you cared. Well, okay, you were trying not to care. He was some random dude, you needed to calm your high school crush ass down. Jeez.

 

You sit down at your computer and spend the next two hours watching his channel. He’s quite funny. You decide you love his sense of humor. He’s much more over-the-top than he was in real life.

 

Suddenly, as if waking from the depths, you have a book idea.

 

And it might just work.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter today to get the ball rolling. I'm so excited for this. Agh. I hope this isn't too terrible lmao
> 
> visit me on my [tumblr](https://also-trash.tumblr.com/)


	3. Calm Before The Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is picking up oh no 
> 
>  
> 
> also highkey reader is v anxious and it me

The next few weeks were spent with you hurriedly writing, emailing your editor, and all-in-all pretending the outside world doesn’t exist. You kept busy, and your story was truly in the making. 

 

Felix texted you last week. The two of you talked back and forth, but you were too distracted to have a real conversation with him, so you apologized, explaining to him that you had a rush of inspiration and couldn’t talk for a while. He said he understood, and left you alone. So that was that. 

 

You’d nearly forgotten about him until he texted you again. That was today. You’d finally hit a stopping point in your inspiration and felt your writing slowing down. You allow yourself a break from writing, and finally leave your office. 

 

You’ll admit that you haven’t been eating well over the last few weeks, too caught up in your work to remember to eat. It wasn’t uncommon for you to forget to eat though, so you decide you’re going to make a big sandwich for lunch to make up for it. You’re going to cook bacon for it and everything. 

 

As you start to make your sandwich, your phone buzzes. 

 

_ Felix: _

 

_ Hey, you get done with your writing?  _

 

You feel yourself smile. You can’t believe this guy is actively choosing to try to be your friend, even after you made such an idiot of yourself both times you’d seen him. 

 

_____:

 

_ Actually yah, just got finished. You caught me at just the right time, haha. Sorry i’ve been MIA all week!  _

 

After you finish your reply, you set your phone down and take a deep breath. Texting is scary. Not as scary as socializing in real life, but still scary. You continue making your sandwich, putting mayo on the bread, cheese, turkey, lettuce, and tomato, and then you move to cook a few strips of bacon. As you cook, you feel tension leave your body. It was nice to finally give your brain a rest from writing and do something else. You loved cooking, so it was a good relaxer. 

 

After the bacon is finished, your sandwich is ready to eat. You grin to yourself as you pick up your food and sit down on the couch, turning the tv on. 

 

As you start to eat, you basically ignore the tv and opt to sit on your phone. You have a message from Felix. 

 

_ Felix: _

 

_ Nice, and it’s all good! I’ve had those rushes of inspiration before, and i’m pretty much impossible to talk to when i’m like that too.  _

 

You smile, happy that he understands where you’re coming from. 

 

_ _____: _

 

_ Glad you don’t mind then :) how have you been?  _

 

You continue to eat, but you can’t concentrate on the tv when you try to. You’re just waiting for him to answer. You try to tell yourself  _ that’s sad, you’re being ridiculous, stop waiting _ , but you can’t. You’re completely distracted by the idea of him answering you. 

 

“God, you’re such a loser,” you say to yourself, rolling your eyes and tossing your phone away, down on the other side of the couch. You saw him once. Sure, you’d watched his videos and you kinda felt like you knew him, but it was an online persona, so in reality, you didn’t know him that well.  You have to remind yourself that. 

 

You take a bite of your sandwich when your phone buzzes, and you have to force yourself not to scramble to go grab it. You chew, swallow, and THEN grab it. 

 

_ Felix:  _

 

_ I’ve been pretty good, bored cause i’m ahead on my videos and don’t have a lot to do.  _

 

You take another unattractively large bite and type back. 

 

_ _____: _

 

_ i feel it, i’ve only been writing for a few weeks and i’m already ahead on my work. two chapters a month is average, i’m like 6 chapters in already. Oops :P _

 

_ Felix: _

 

_ Damn! that’s a lot. what’s your new book about? i actually just ordered the other one you told me about.  _

 

_ _____: _

 

_ I wouldn’t want to spoil it, you’ll just have to wait for me to finish *evil laugh* also thank you for buying my book. it means a lot.  _

 

You quietly laugh to yourself, finishing your meal and brushing your hands on your napkin. 

 

_ Felix: _

 

_ Cruel, my dude. Cruel. can’t wait for it though! Also, you are very welcome. I’m really excited to read it.  _

 

You feel yourself grin. Gosh, he was so nice. He wanted support  _ you.  _ A  _ stranger.  _

 

Where has he been all your life? 

 

_ — _

 

The next few weeks progress in this way. You write, watch Felix’s videos, and text him almost nonstop. It’s almost like having an actual friend again. 

 

Sure, you spoke to your editor fairly frequently, but your relationship with him was professional and mainly took place over email. You’d actually only met him in person three times; once when you hired him, once at a publishing conference, and another time at a convention. Alex was a nice guy, just a bit too loud for your taste, so you never really became good friends with him. 

 

Felix, on the other hand, was lovely. He seemed to enjoy your jokes, even the dumb ones, and didn’t mind when you’d ramble and over-explain yourself. He was patient with you. Kind. You felt like you could actually talk to him. Although, you felt as if the longer you spoke to him, the more likely it was for you to fuck it all up, so you sometimes had to put your phone down and try to recoup yourself. 

 

Anxiety seemed to be a major factor in this whole relationship, which you already didn’t like. While on the one hand, you felt very comfortable talking to him, and you felt like he considered you a decent human being, you also felt as if one slip up could quickly ruin the friendship you’d created. Which was probably a ridiculous notion, and one you wish you didn’t believe, but you certainly did. It would seem the anxious part of your brain won over the logical side. Lovely. 

 

But despite the anxiety, you kept pretty frequent contact. Almost day-to-day. He explained to you that he only has a few friends himself and that he’s been looking for someone new to talk to, and then proceeded to make a joke about “stumbling” upon you, which you, of course, laughed uncontrollably at. He was such a dork. 

 

During these few weeks, you’d finally run completely out of inspiration for your book, and had to quit writing. You’d sent your first chapter and your running ideas for plot to Alex, and he began to edit what you’d gave him. You were a solid 8 chapters in already, so you’d be okay waiting to write some more. 

 

These weeks had been going quite well, and it left you feeling dread for the next unfortunate event. 

 

Which brought you to today. Today started out terribly. You woke up to yelling, and your neighbors downstairs were banging around their apartment. You’d tried to ignore it and go back to bed, but the slamming got louder and then got worse, until it felt like your floor was shaking, and you couldn’t concentrate enough to go back to sleep. You could only concentrate on your rapidly increasing heartbeat. 

 

See, you didn’t like fights. You didn’t like hearing them, being a part of them, being a witness to them; you wanted no part in fighting. You’d heard it too much during your childhood; parents arguing about you, your dad hitting your mom, screams, you hiding in your room. You didn’t like fights. They made your chest hurt. 

 

Suddenly, you hear a huge bang, a scream, and then there’s silence. 

 

God, the  _ silence.  _

 

You have to force yourself to breathe. Silence was the  _ worst  _ after a fight. But now it seemed someone could be hurt. Could be  _ dead.  _

 

You tell yourself you have to be an adult about this. You need to take a deep breath, get out of bed, and call the police. 

 

But you  _ can’t.  _ You  _ can’t can’t can’t.  _ Your brain is on overdrive and you can’t concentrate enough to even move. 

 

But then, you do. You’re nearly on autopilot, and you grab your phone with shaking hands. Instead of calling the police, though, your anxiety ridden self dials Felix. 

 

You don’t really take the time to contemplate what you’re doing, or why, or what you’re even going to say. You haven’t spoken to him about your anxiety, so you’re going to call him, and  _ have a fucking anxiety attack?  _ How dumb could you be?

 

But all your brain can think is  _ Felix is safe. Safe. You need to be safe. He is safe.  _

 

And you call him. 

 

Your phone rings three times before he picks up; you almost expect him not to, since it’s 10am and who knows how much he sleeps in. But he does, and his voice comes clearly from your phone. 

 

_ “Hey _____, what’s up? You haven’t ever called me before. Oh yah, and also, good morning.” _

 

You almost hang up. Oh god, what are you doing? Call the police, you idiot, someone could be hurt. 

 

“Hey Felix. I’m sorry for calling, it’s just that I heard people fighting in the apartment below mine, and there was a scream, and I know I need to call the police, but I’m really freaked out, and I don’t know what to do, gosh, I’m so sorry I called you, this is ridiculous, I should’ve-”

 

Suddenly, he cuts off your ramble with a gentle “ _ hey, whoa, are you okay?”  _

 

You take a deep, trembling breath. “Yes, I’m fine, I apologize.”

 

“ _ What’s going on?”  _ He asks. 

 

You quietly explain yourself again, this time more calmly. You have to force yourself to breathe properly. 

 

Once you finish explaining what was going on, there’s a pause, and you’re almost worried Felix hung up on you. But then, cautiously, his voice comes over the phone. 

 

“ _ I think you should call the police if you think someone is hurt. Or an ambulance. I don’t know. I’ve never had this happen before. I don’t recommend going down there in case you get hurt.” _

 

You nod even though he can’t see you. “Yes, yes, I agree. I’ll call the police. I’m sorry to bother you,” 

 

You feel your anxiety spike as you worry about what he was going to say.  _ He’s going to say you’re being ridiculous, or that you were very bothersome, or maybe he’ll just hang up on you, or- _

 

_ “You’re all good _____, I don’t mind. You were worried and didn’t know what to do. I was glad to help.” _

 

You feel your heart swell. You’re glad he wasn’t here right now; he would definitely tease you about the doofy smile that’s on your face. 

 

“Thank you, Felix. I’m glad you don’t mind. Thank you kindly,” You say, feeling calm, if only for a moment. 

 

“ _ No need to thank me. Okay, I’m going to let you go now, text me and tell me how it goes, okay? Stay safe, _____.” _

 

“Goodbye Felix,” 

 

When the call ends, the anxiety has returned, and you have to take a deep breath, in and out. Time to face this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dude thanks for like reading n stuff
> 
> check out my [tumblr](https://also-trash.tumblr.com/)


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